He just stood there. He wasn’t sure how long he did. Was it minutes? Hours? Days? It didn’t really matter, because he was already too far into his deep-thought trance. He noticed that the evening sky was replaced by endless stars. In fact, everything around him was replaced by endless space.

“What in the…” Vincent said out loud.

He swiveled his body to look all around him, and found that movement was effortless. Curious as to why he had so much freedom with his body, he looked down at his body, only to find that there was nothing there. He both was and wasn’t at the same time. There was no body, yet he felt. There were no sounds, yet he heard his breath echo off of the cosmic vacuum around him.

In fact, when he finally focused on his surroundings, he saw more than stars. Billions of galaxies, spiraling with colors unimaginable, breaking any notion of the known spectrum, danced around him. They seemed so small and far away, yet the view was larger than life. Vast pockets of black were speckled with pulsing balls of light, varying in size, shape, and distance. The sheer number of everything began to break his mind, and so, he tried to close his eyes. But nothing changed.

Now becoming overwhelmed with panic, he tried to shield his eyes with his arm. As he did, he saw distant celestial bodies of dust subtly shift—or at least they seemed to—and merge with the darkness of space. The final shape was that of an arm, and it was impossibly colored. It seemed to be both full of cosmic color and also filled with black. The outline was mind-bending, as well, as it seemed to simultaneously reflect and absorb light. This rigid interpretation of nothingness, formed into something familiar, then began to move.

And it was heading right for him.

What seemed like the hand of God grew larger and larger the closer it got. Existential flashes of fear made their way through Vincent’s mind. But those thoughts contrasted against the odd sense of peace that the space gave him. The somehow familiar world clashed against the grand unknown before him.

Before he could even process anything, the galactic hand had moved so close that it enveloped most of his sight. Clenching his teeth, he gave into inevitability.

And then it went dark.

Surprisingly, he still felt the same. He still felt that he was there. In fact, speaking of feeling, his right hand could feel his own face. Confused, he pulled his hand away. When he did, his mind barely made sense of what he saw. In front of him was that very celestial hand that was closing in on him…but it was also his own.

He moved it around and saw that he was in full control of it. It was bordering on the edge of invisible, and the way it absorbed and reflected light made it seem like it was made up of void and stars.

Is this…all me?

As that thought left his mind, he looked down and saw his body. It was made of the same material as his hand…the same material as the universe.

He then took his hand and reached it out directly in front of him, as far as it could go. He stretched it out, hoping to either find a difference between him and the universe, or touch it. However, just like space, his hand continued to go on forever. With each moment that passed—even though time had no meaning here—space began to fracture. Invisible, yet barely perceivable lines began to crack around the four dimensions. These cracks began to have cracks within themselves, impossibly small, and then those cracks began to crack, and so on and so forth. It was like watching an infinite fracktal unfold before him.

And then it all snapped back into place.

He did that and he knew it. He didn’t know why, but he did know that he was the cause for all those effects. He managed to create a change where there was nothing to change—there was nothing there that could change. There was just space there, and space is nothing. Therefore, so was he. He was one with space. He was one with the nothingness. But he was also one with everything. For where there is nothing, there is an infinite possibility for something.

He continued to look at the stars, which were now wrapped in a cold, blue blanket of color. There was nothing more majestic than this. At least that’s what he thought. And as his thoughts began to wander beyond their limits once more, his breathing grew more rapid and his vision started to blur. Trying to readjust his sight, the blurred image in front of him stayed.

He tried to look for the majestic sight that he beheld, but all that he saw was a fogged image of what once was.

Confused, he took a few steps back, hitting something that he didn’t see. He twisted around to see what asteroid or celestial body his body ran into, but all he saw was darkness. As he focused in on the darkness around him, shapes began to make themselves known.

Rectangles, vague outlines of walls, and basic images began to come out of the black. When he turned back towards the stars that he was engulfed in, all he found was a blotchily fogged window.

He realized that he was back in his room. Or maybe he never left. Either way, he looked out towards the night sky, and saw the stars that were sprinkled across it. They seemed so far away now.

“What time is it?” he asked himself. “And what the hell just happened?” He then took a few breaths and let his mind and body fully readjust to his surroundings.

“Nine thirty-seven,” a voice answered him.

Turning back around, with his mind back in reality, he looked at the source of the voice. He saw a vaguely humanoid shape, sitting at the room’s only desk. It didn’t take him long to recognize the person.

“Yo, Zander,” Vincent said. “How long have you been here?”

Zander, whose face was buried in his own notebook, passively replied, “Approximately an hour.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” Vincent said.

Running his hands through his golden-blonde hair, Zander responded, “I’m not surprised. You were completely consumed within your own thoughts, looking out the window.” He then grabbed the pencil in his ear and quickly wrote something down. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he said to himself.

“How long was I like that?” Vincent asked, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really remember walking into this room. Honestly, I don’t remember much after…” He then thought back to his encounter with Riki and remembered how strange his head felt as he walked back to the Black Magic.

Zander didn’t respond right away. He was staring at a semi-blank page, twiddling his pencil between his fingers. He sighed for a second and shook his head. “That doesn't work with…”

Vincent cocked his head and furled his eyebrows in curiosity. He then sauntered up to Zander and looked over his shoulder. In the blue notebook were various lines, crude stretches of buildings, and barely legible half-sentences.

“Whatcha doing’, dude?” Vincent asked.

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Zander put his hand up in a silencing motion and wrote down “radius or line” in the margin next to a sloppy drawing of a map of the middle section of London. After bouncing the tip of his pencil on the phrase for a few seconds, he eventually circled “line”.

He set his hand down and leaned back in his chair. “I’m trying to figure out any patterns about the Slayer, and I might’ve stumbled upon something, but I’m not too sure. I still need more evidence.”

“Damn,” Vincent explained, “you’re already figuring this shit out, huh?” He patted Zander on the back. “I expected nothing less of ya.”

“Well, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it,” Zander sighed. “It’s a start, at the very least.”

“So when are ya gonna share what ya got with Archard?” Vincent asked, plopping down on one of the beds. He sat with one foot on the ground and one propped up on the bed.

Zander jotted down a few more things and replied, matter-of-factly, “I don’t plan on it.”

“What?”

“I told you,” Zander said, turning the page, “I don’t trust him nor that entire organization. There’s something suspicious going on and I’m not a big fan of it.”

“Well duh,” Vincent countered, “they’re the mob. And besides, they’re fighting for the city, not to rule it.”

“Oh my gosh,” Zander said, face-palming. “I can’t believe you’re already buying into it.” He then highlighted something in his notebook. “This is why I didn't want Eliot involved. He’s too nice and he…”

Zander then stopped writing and ceased all movement. Without turning or even moving from his frozen position, he asked, “Vince, where’s Eliot?”

Vincent chuckled and said, “You just now realized he ain’t here?”

“I was too caught up in my work,” Zander said. “Why isn’t he with you? I thought you said you were going to protect him.”

“And I am,” Vincent confidently said.

“Then where is he? It’s night out.”

Vincent shrugged. “He’s probably still out on the mission Archard sent him on. It ain’t a big deal.”

“It is, though, Vince.” Zander’s voice became more stern. “I don’t trust Archard for a second, so saying his name means nothing to me. And besides, Eliot is way too fragile to be left on his own, especially with his powers now.”

“It's fine,” Vincent reassured him.

“It’s not!” Zander yelled, swiftly standing up from his chair.

There was a moment of silence where the air hung heavy with anticipation and tension.

“I’m sorry,” Zander eventually apologized. “It’s dangerous for you two to be seperated. I thought that you both were going to go on missions together.”

“He ain’t gonna be in danger. I’m sure Archard put him on some really easy mission.”

“Being sure is not good enough for me, Vince. I need you to be certain.”

“Calm down, dude.”

Quickly, Zander snapped, saying, “I am calm. I’m just angry ”

“Well you need to chill for a sec,” Vincent replied. “I get that you're worried for him—’cause I am too—but we’re both gonna be fine. I’m the Chosen, he’s my best friend, and we both got wickedly strong powers. We’re stars, man.”

“Yeah, well sometimes stars fall.”

“Stars don’t fall, dude, that’s impossible in space. They just burn out and die.”

“Not those kinds of stars, Vince. And besides, that’s not the point. I’m saying that no matter what your position is, no matter what your title is, and no matter how strong you might be, hubris will always bring you crashing down if you’re not careful.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Zander, with an offended look. said, “What are you saying?”

“All I’m sayin’ that it’s funny that Mr. Ego over here is tellin’ me what it means to be humble.”

“Screw you.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“You know what? Yeah, I am egotistical, but that’s because I’m smart. And I’m smart enough to understand that there’s something else going on behind the scenes that we’re not aware of—something sinister. I’m starting to see signs that this is bigger than you think.”

Vincent shrugged his shoulders. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“And I think you’re being narrow-minded about this,” Zander said, pointing at his friend.

“I’m really not,” Vincent countered. “I get that you're mad about it not being a complicated thing, but it’s just a simple fight between Libra and Aries. Once we help Libra win, we’ll see the obelisk and bounce.”

Zander rolled his eyes and shook his head. “The world ain’t that simple, Vince. There are no heroes and villains—there’s just people and the terrible things they do. So stop pretending that you’re living in a world like that.”

Vincent deviously smiled. “Oh, but we do now.” He then lowered himself in a slightly colder place and produced a small void in the middle of his hand. “You saw what the obelisk said. I’m a Chosen hero and there are people with superpowers. There's no more of that confusing politics stuff and all those stupid ways of having power. It’s just a world of superpowered people and whether they use those powers for good or evil.”

“Are you stupid?” Zander said with some sincere force behind his words. “Nothing’s changed in this world. Superpowers are nothing new. They’re just going to be used as weapons, just like every other human invention. The real power is and will always be with those who can manipulate and abuse those weapons the best.” He then leaned his hand against the chair next to him. “I get that you’re happy to finally have a purpose, Vince, I really do. And I’m happy for you. But don’t let that cloud your judgment. The intelligent, manipulative people are still the ones on top.”

A few leaps of conclusions then made their way through Vincent’s head. To him, the connections made perfect sense. “Are you actually jealous of me for once?” Vincent asked. “Are you upset that you’re no longer considered perfect in this world?”

“What?”

Vincent continued by saying, “Well, people that were smart and made no mistakes—like you—were seen as perfect to everyone else. People loved you, looked up to you, and always used you as an example of what to be.” He then hesitated for a second before continuing. Old, buried emotions began to come through, but something within his colder mind stopped them from surfacing. “But nobody really loved me. Everyone looked down on me like I was nothing but a mistake. They always used me as an example of what not to be.”

“Vince…” Zander said, his voice slightly softening. “That’s not true.”

“It was, though,” Vincent replied, his tone oddly flat and without emotion. “You were the symbol of perfection. But guess what, dude? I know you and you aren’t perfect. In fact, there’s ain’t such a thing as a perfect person.”

Zander bit his lip and waited a few seconds before answering. “You’re right,” he finally said, “people aren’t perfect.” He paused. “Well, maybe one person is.”

“Let me guess,” Vincent snarkily said, “you?”

Zander snapped his pencil and slammed in on the desk. “No! I’m the furthest person from perfect, and I learned that lesson a bit too late.”

“You don’t believe that,” Vincent replied. “You were never like this.”

“Well guess what, dude?” Zander said. “People change, but apparently not you. I thought you gained some maturity back in Egypt, but I guess I was wrong. You’re still unable to see anything that isn't directly in front of you. And that’s why you’re going to get played like a fiddle by these mobsters.”

“Whatever,” Vincent said, dismissing Zander’s argument. “You don’t know them like I do.”

“What are you talking about? You barely know them.”

“Yeah, well, I know that they need me and that’s good enough for me.”

“You’re playing right into their hands.”

Vincent threw his hands in the air and said, “I ain’t playin’ into shit. If anything, I’m playin’ them. I’m just helping them so that they’ll lead me to the obelisk.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Vincent then made his way towards the door, stomping his feet a bit. Just as he reached for the door knob, he looked back at Zander. “We’ll see who gets played,” he said.

And with that, Vincent walked out of the door.